


Breathe Remix

by IMAgentMI



Category: Red vs. Blue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 13:14:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10465866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMAgentMI/pseuds/IMAgentMI
Summary: Maine wakes up early.  Wash is on his couch, and he's got a lot to think about.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Martienne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Martienne/gifts).



Maine opened his eyes in time to his bedside clock tick to 4:58. He sat up, switched off the alarm before it had a chance to go off. He had stopped wondering ages ago why he bothered to set at all - he never needed it. It hadn’t actually gone off in five years and now he couldn’t even remember what it sounded like.

He paused only a moment while he was dressing, when the memories of the night before finally hit him, and his sigh was lost somewhere in his sweatshirt as he pulled it over his head. He grabbed a pair of socks, hit the lights, and closed his door behind him. 

The living room was lightening just enough that he could make out the silhouette of Wash lying on the couch. Maine moved slowly past him, stopping at the entrance of the kitchen to listen for Wash’s deep even breathing. Satisfied, he felt around on the dark counter until his hands found a pen and something papery. Hoping it was nothing terribly important, he blindly scrawled “Gone for a run to lake and back - back soon” and left it on the table, right where he hoped Wash couldn’t possibly miss it. Shouldn’t be a problem though - the Wash of old slept like the dead, and Maine hoped the late night would see him sleep in today. He grabbed his runners, and quietly let himself out the back door. 

There was a definite chill in the air - summer had lingered longer than usual, but it seemed that autumn was finally catching up. The wood of his deck was covered in dew, and he gritted his teeth in displeasure as he balanced on one foot at a time, pulling on his socks and shoes before finally making his way down the steps. The sky over his head had lost all but a few of its stars, and the air was alive with birdsong - it was his perfect time of day, and he set an easy pace as he set off down the dirt road.

Trees lined the roadside, growing thicker as the road sloped gently downwards. It was hard to hear anything above the sounds of his shoes kicking up gravel and the grand chorus of birds, but he kept a lookout on both sides of the road for wildlife. It was usually abundant - it was a rare morning when he made an entire run without seeing at least one deer, or a flock of turkeys or a mama fox and her kits. But for now, the morning was his alone, and he let his mind wander, knowing full well where it intended to go.

What was he going to do about Wash?

Or course it hurt to see his friend in pain, but it was like a fresh kick in the balls to watch it knowing what he was going through, because that had been Maine not all that long ago (and still was, on the rare really bad days). When Freelancer disbanded, Maine had taken his honourable discharge and got the fuck out. It surprised his teammates, who to a man had re-enlisted - it surprised him - but he wanted no part of that fight any longer, and when he left, bridges lit the sky behind him. Except for Carolina, and except for Wash. So he tried to start a new life, tried to find a place for himself in a world where he wasn’t a soldier. He knew it was going poorly, but kept trying. 

But then he got a message from Wash, to tell him about Carolina...

Maine exhaled hard, ejecting several threads of thought that he was not willing to look at too closely right now. It didn’t matter. He’d taken the short road to hell, and the long winding uphill path back and left blood all along the way. It was enough that he’d learned how to cope. He hoped he’d learned enough to be able to help his friend.

Maine blinked and came to a stop. The trees thinned ahead of him, and he had a straight view of the lake. He hadn’t realized he’d already come so far. On any other day, he’d walk down to the water’s edge, sit on his favourite rock - the one that warmed the quickest in the morning sunlight - and watch for fish in the shadows under the willow trees. But not today.

Maine looked out over the water and took one deep cleansing breath of lake air. Feeling lighter, he turned and began the tougher jog back up the hill. 

Thinking long-term, he needed to get Wash in to see a doctor. Might take some convincing, but it had to be done. It was tough to do that out here, where Maine’s nearest neighbor was 20 kilometers away, and the nearest town another 10 kilometers on top of that. Maine was glad of the isolation, glad for the peace that came with the countryside, where his disconnect with other humans seemed a far and distant thing itself. And he was glad and grateful to find that disconnect did not extend to Wash. Time would tell if that would last, and Wash’s tolerance of him, too.

The sun was rising behind him now, over the lake. Not a lot of light filtered through the forest on either side of him, but on the road under the tunnel of leaves, the air shimmered, heavy with evaporating dew. The light passed him, racing over the road before him, turning the gravel to gold and darkening the canopy above him. It was a strange sensation, the way the light and shadow made the branches feel as though they were mere inches from his head - there was a time when it would set off panic attacks of claustrophobia, but that hadn’t happened in a long time.

Maine tried to clear his mind, to enjoy his last minutes alone before he arrived back at the house. This was time he knew he needed to recharge. It had been a very late and a very rough night, what was almost certainly just the first of many more to come. So he felt no guilt taking this time on his own, preparing himself for the day, because his days no longer belonged to just him, anymore. And if he wasn’t taking care of himself, how could he possibly help Wash? 

Maine kicked his legs out, taking the last open stretch before his cabin at full stride. He eased up, slowing down to a walk, then made a cool-down circuit around his house. The yard needed mowing, but he rarely had a good reason to, and mainly did it just to have a project to do. And it looked like one of the trees closest to his house had a branch that was dying. He better get up and look at that soon too. Maybe if he was feeling up to it, Wash could give him a hand later. Maine froze in his tracks, imagining multiple outcomes of Wash climbing up a ladder, and did a quick calculation of 911 response times. Probably best if Wash helps by just holding the ladder steady for him…

When his loop around the house brought him around again to the back deck, Maine climbed the steps and as quietly as he could, walked in.

He pulled the door shut behind him, and carefully pried off his shoes without unlacing them. The house was completely still, and would have been silent had it not been for the birds. He took a tentative step in, and saw his note in the same place he’d left it, and another step showed him that Wash was still where he’d left him as well. Now that the room was filled with morning light, he could see the blanket that had slipped off the couch overnight, and he debated briefly whether he should replace it over Wash, or just let him be. In the end, he left the blanket on the floor, but put a kettle on the stove to boil - at least he’d have something to warm him when he woke. The tiny blue flames had barely burst into life when Maine heard a sound from the couch. It wasn’t a sigh, but a simple change in breathing, turning from sleep to awake. 

“Tea?”


End file.
